Sleeps four
by MurielLeeJones
Summary: Hotch takes Jack, and a friend or two on a skiing trip, story doesn't have much to do with skiing though. Pre-slash. One-shot. Written for lovely Ali, miss you.


It wasn't as though this had been a fool proof plan, just a plan; truthfully it hadn't been much of a plan, not by Aaron Hotchner's standards. Now he was sitting in a cabin in Aspen Colorado, in front of the fireplace, with a dozing Spencer Reid, and two sleeping boys. It had started simple. Jack had wanted to go skiing, and Aaron had needed, more than needed, a vacation—and Strauss was insisting and so was Garcia—that combination made the hounds of hell appear relatively benign. Then everything had happened with Spencer, and since Aaron had rented the cabin—sleeps four—a woman who sounded genuinely helpful had informed him when he was booking—no, sorry, that's the smallest we have. So, with a sleeps-four cabin, it followed that Spencer might come with them.

Aaron nearly laughed out aloud at the look on Spencer's face at being asked to come on a ski vacation. Reid, he reminded himself, Spencer was still Reid then, Jack had called him Dr. all the time on the flight over and made him smile. JJ and Will, or more likely Will and JJ, had wanted a romantic weekend, something which Strauss was also virtually insisting on, and of which Garcia wanted photos. So, Reid's (funny how strange that sounded) Reid's first objection had been that he had promised to take care of Henry. And he, Hotch, now determined to get the outcome he sought, had simply invited Henry with—after all the cabin slept four. J.J. was happy, plenty happy, to get Henry to the mountains for a few days. With credit card points and frequent flyer miles, it was all settled—up to and including ski lessons for Spencer, Reid, Aaron remained himself, Hotch had insisted on ski lessons for Reid. The look on Reid's face had been almost as priceless as the first thought of the trip. Aaron wondered what Spencer, Reid that was, had thought he would do on a ski trip, if not ski.

It had been so simple at the time. So straight forward, Jack took to being a big brother, and Henry to being the younger, it was so natural, as they each gathered a child in their arms walking onto the airplane, it was so easy, as the airline host asked them if they were together and both instantly said yes. It was all so simple until the moment Aaron had found himself on top of Reid, of Spencer, in the snow at the bottom of a bunny hill—do bunny hills even have bottoms? In that moment everything, and Aaron did mean everything, in that unexpected moment everything in Aaron's life became complicated.

"Did you kiss Dr. Reid?"

It was darling how Henry was imitating Jack in calling Reid "Dr." Then Aaron processed what Henry had asked. Henry hadn't asked with the least of malicious intent, Aaron didn't think Henry was capable of malicious intent—but he had asked in a ritzy-can take-out be ritzy?—take out place near the sleeps-four cabin near Aspen. Reid, Spencer, from that moment, from the kiss, Reid had become Spencer; he had allowed Reid to become Spencer. Spencer had answered, and Spencer did his best work in conditions of extreme terror, "We kiss people we care about, and want them to know they are our person." The explanation had been simplistic for Jack, whose eyes had first widened, but then narrowed, but perfect for Henry. Henry had kissed Spencer sloppily, Aaron would like to describe it as on the cheek, but it had been more of a miss than a hit, on the head would be a more apt portrayal. Briefly Spencer had looked as though he might set the child down. And he had looked at Spencer, who had been quite calm other than the virtual licking by Henry, and was looking back with a question in his eyes, his beautiful hazel eyes, and the clerk had asked for their order, and he had startled so, he did need to do something about his hearing, had startled so he had nearly drawn his gun, and Spencer had laid a hand over his. And what, what had he thought in that moment, it was definitely not about fish tacos and wether they wanted them Colorado style. There was a Colorado fish taco style? He would need to ask Spencer.

He had worried, he had worried the whole way to the cabin, in their rented compact, was Spencer too vulnerable? Was he ready? Was this just a reaction to his loss? This was soon. Maybe this was too soon. And Spencer had sat with the brown bag of take out that may or may not have had Colorado fish tacos inside, and Aaron had wondered, and Spencer had freed a hand from the bag of fish tacos and touched Aaron's; and Aaron didn't need to know what to do next.

And Jack, who had no ill intent, and, thank god, Spencer understood that, he understood kids, had asked if Spencer had been in love before. And Spencer had not frozen, or looked away and become virtually unresponsive, he had simply answered yes, and that was it. And Henry had gone on to tell a complicated story about how his mom and dad had fallen in love in New Orleans, which would have been much clearer if he wasn't copying his dad's accent and eating fries. How did had Aaron ended up buying the kids fries?

And somehow between their making a fire, and Spencer putting the kids in jammies-where had Spencer learnt that word?-it sounded good when he said it-between these things, Aaron wondered when this had started. Aaron busied himself with kitchen duties, he knew when it had started, it had started the moment Spencer had chosen him, in Georgia, he had started by knowing that Spencer trusted him, and he desperately needed to be trusted.

So here in the sleeps-four cabin, having eaten ritzy take out, that may or may not have been Colorado style fish tacos—he really did need to get his hearing checked—after watching Cars—again—with two sleeping boys, and a dozing Spencer and Aaron staring at his face, now Aaron knew that he wanted more.


End file.
